


Just a Little Curiosity and a Lot of Arousal

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Kinktober, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8205478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kinktober sounds fun.(Note: I am extremely late in this. Slow updates. It will not be finished by the end of October.)





	1. Kinktober Day 01— Spanking

**Author's Note:**

> Day 01— Spanking  
> Pairing— Classic fontcest

   Well, okay, this wasn’t how Sans was anticipating to spend his Saturday.

   It started with Papyrus’ hands on him— first on his cheekbone, then his humerus, then his spine. It was very early when he figured out Papyrus was antsy about something. But he didn’t ask until after dinner, when Papyrus looked like he would break.

   "Papyrus, what?” He asked, exasperatedly, as he picked up the other’s plate. “You’ve been extra hyper all day, what is it?”

   And as he walked over to the sink, setting the dishes in it gently, he almost dropped a fork. 

   “I wanted to try something in the bedroom!” Papyrus nearly shouted, sharp cheekbones going cyan. Catching Sans' shocked expression, he mellowed out with a self-conscious smile. “I’m sorry, I was— I was really nervous that you wouldn’t want to do it, or that you would think it was weird or something.”

   Sans finally relaxed, laughing softly, as he ran hot water over his phalanges to clean off their plates, enjoying the way it felt against his cool magic. “Oh my god, Papyrus. I thought you were gonna tell me the world stopped stocking pasta in stores or something.”

   Papyrus’ eye ridges furrowed. “Why would that happen?” Sans only chuckled again. How somebody who just said they wanted to try something new in sex could suddenly seem so innocent, he didn’t know.

 

   That’s what he thought, then. Now he was shifting after Papyrus had asked him very quietly to bend over his knee.

   “Wh…what?” He managed to stutter, soul fluttering in surprise. The nervous grin on Papyrus’ face, coupled with a little laugh, made him flush brightly. “Sans, come on. You said you would try. You can just say ‘red’ if you don’t like it. I’ll stop.”

   He shook his head, exhaling slowly, but slowly came closer to Papyrus’ leg propped against the bed, and hesitated before bending himself over it, feeling a little bit embarrassed.

   "Okay,” His partner said a bit breathily, and he suppressed a shudder. “Now, Sans.” A hand squeezed his femur. “Summon the flesh around your legs and pelvis, please. Include here,” Sans bit back a yelp as that hand pressed gently unto his clothed crotch.

   “…Okay,” he mumbled slowly, and it wasn’t long before a foreign coolness surrounded his bones, butt and mound and all. “Ta da.”

   He cursed quietly when Papyrus started giggling. “Shut up, Sans, you’re ruining this.” Sans swore he continued to giggle up until the point phalanges touched his ass. Then it was silent, and he suddenly understood very well. “Oh, Papyrus, you—”

   His body seized and he was cut off as the hand suddenly drew back and snapped forward, jerking him against the leg slightly in surprise.

   An indigo blush burned on his face as Papyrus rubbed the offended magic. “Was that too much? Did I hurt you?” he started, concerned, but Sans slowly shook his head. “N-no, I’m— that was okay. G-green.”

   The words barely left his mouth when the hand slapped into his flesh again, with more force, and a gasp tore itself from his throat. No, there was no way he was getting off to this.

   “Still okay?” “Y-y-yeah.”

    _Smack_.

   He whimpered this time, full and loud, and it was obvious that Papyrus recognized the sound as pleasurable, because the next hit was even harder, and Sans was left panting, the summoned muscle stinging a little.

   "So…” Papyrus started, voice dipping dangerously. “You’re okay with this.” You could hear the smirk in his words after you nodded. “Alright, then.”

   Sans was stranded, gasping harshly and whimpering, as Papyrus picked up the pace, not pausing in between hits, and his hips jerked against his femur, hands unsure of where to go, and he let out a sudden moan after the sixth strike.

   The hand hesitated. “Are you really enjoying yourself that much?”

   “No.”

    _Smack_.

   “Don’t lie to me.” “…Y-yeah.”

    _Smack_.

   “There you go, Sans.”

   It was going to be a long night.

 

   The flesh wasn’t to be dispelled even as he was set on Papyrus’ lap, and the other’s large hands still cupped his abused skin. Papyrus looked extremely pleased, forcing a whimper out of Sans as his thumb pressed hard and dragged across the crotch of his shorts, rubbing into the tiny wet stain.

   “Note to self,” he commented cheerily, “Sans likes spanking.”

   Sans whined and buried his face into his brother’s neck, rubbing against the scarf still boldly decorating his vertebrae. “Can you just fuck me already?”

   Papyrus giggled. “So eager” “That’s because you just spanked me for a good ten minutes.” The taller shrugged. “Oops.”

   Their clothes were pushed away, and just as Sans was starting to lower to push his lover inside of him, a hand on his ass squeezed in warning before a sharp strike made him yelp. “H-hey! That— I’m s-sensitive n—” He gasped as there was another sharp sting, and suddenly he was pulled down harshly, the member slamming up into him, and he arched his spine.

   “A-ah,” he choked, arms moving to clutch around Papyrus’ neck as he was bounced quickly, hips quivering as the hand kept striking as he was moved against the other’s cock, squeezing when release dripped from his entrance and spanking one more time as he cried out, reaching orgasm.

   “…Sans,” Papyrus murmured, “I love you.”

   And Sans giggled, because Papyrus said that every time. “I love you too, Papyrus.”


	2. Day 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 02— Dirty talk  
> Pairing— Stoner Bros (Undertale Sans and Underswap Papyrus)

   Sans didn’t quite remember falling asleep, but he woke on the couch, tangled with his lover. It was sort of uncomfortable— one of his legs was under the other’s, the other over and wrapped around his waist, one arm draped around the other’s neck and the other locked in an iron grip, fingers desperately intertwined.  
   They were probably drunk or high when they passed out. He sighed, gently trying to wiggle away the arm across the other skeleton’s neck, but he winced when it caused him to stir. Ugh, he was such as light sleeper. Just like Sans.  
   As the taller skeleton’s eye opened dazedly, Sans rubbed his hand against his face. If they were high, it was more likely that they made out. If they were drunk, it was more likely that they had sex. He didn’t feel the lingering effects of sex; he didn’t feel it on Papyrus, either. But damn, he was tired.   
   Teeth clacked against his and he jumped, flushing when Papyrus chuckled lowly. “Jumpy?” Sans shrugged, yawning. “Ugh, what did we do last night?” There was another chuckle, louder. “Last night?” Sans frowned slightly, nodding. “Y… yeah?”  
   Sans shifted uneasily when Papyrus laughed softly, arching his back to pop his joints, and Sans slid his leg from under his, fully on his lap. “What? Am I missing something?” He paled when Papyrus nodded, conjuring a toothpick to chew on. Sans had the urge to say… something. He wasn’t sure.  
   “Poor thing,” Papyrus chuckled, and cupped Sans’ cheek, “you’re gonna start your heat soon, remember? There was no ‘last night’. We decided to take a little nap, it’s probably almost time for dinner.” Sans’ eye ridges furrowed and he opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head. “What? I don’t remember that. Heat?”  
   Papyrus laughed pitifully, and Sans’ expression relaxed a little when his thumb rubbed in soft circles. “Aw. You are sorta flushed. Are you aroused any?”  
   Sans opened his mouth to say no, but he hesitated a second too long. The thumb pressed to one of his lower molars, rubbing slowly. “…A litte? I don’t know. I can’t tell if it’s arousal.” The finger slipped inside, rendering him silent until it suddenly pressed hard into a certain spot in his mouth and his body jolted, a sharp moan leaving him. The pressure in his ribcage that he hadn’t noticed before suddenly tripled.  
   Papyrus sighed, drawing his finger back. “Ya. You’re way too sensitive.” Sans flushed, swallowing, embarrassment only worsening when his lover giggled. “You’re so cute. Ah, I love waking up to your face, you know that?”  
   The pressure worsened, teeth twitching.  
“…Oh. Ohhhhh. Am I making it worse?” Papyrus seemed immensely pleased, hands shimmying down to gently squeeze Sans’ hips. Sans made a whining noise, squirming. “Hey—”  
   “No, no.” Papyrus’ voice smoothed out, making him shiver. “Let me make it up to you. Your lack of memory. The thumbs rubbed into the curve of his iliums through his shirt and he made a low purr of a noise, hips shifting forward. “Mm, I knew it. You’re already all hot just because I praised you a little, huh?”  
   Oh, no.  
   Papyrus’ expression said _oh, yes_. “Ohh, I can feel it. Your magic’s all aggrivated— it that it? Do you want some praise? God, I have so much to say, though.” Papyrus’ hands hitched up Sans’ shirt to shimmy his jeans down, just to bunch around his knees. “You’re perfect, hm?”  
   Sans gasped sharply as he felt those fingers gently prod at his ischium.  
   “Your bones are so pretty,” He muttered, thumb swiping along Sans’ pubis, and he gasped again. “And your eyes. I love the way they change to different shapes, your eyelights. It’s adorable. Oh— there they go.”  
   Sans closed his eyes tightly. Teeth pressed to the closed sockets. “Open up.” One cracked open, only for him to inhale sharply as a hot tongue felt around, licking the edge and into the socket. He let out a little, broken moan.  
   It continued to draw little noises from him before moving away. “Oh, damn. You’re so cute. Do you like that word? Do you like to be called something feminine? Do you want me to say ‘good boy?’”  
His hips twitched forward.  
   “…Good boy,” Papyrus all but purred, and a shudder rolled over Sans’ shoulders. The immensely pleased look that earned him had another wave of agonizing heat roll down his spine.  
When had it gotten that drastic?  
   “You never told me you like being praised,” and suddenly fingers dug harshly into his sacrum and dragged down, and he moaned sharply, bucking into the hand. “Bad boy.”  
   Fuck.  
   The fingers barely pull away barely in time for his mound to form, cold magic against his leg as Sans trembled. He thought the other would actually do something. A knee pressed against his lips, raised.  
   He choked when it thrusted up. “Hands on my shoulders.” Sans’ phalanges quivered as he followed suit, and his femurs pressed together when the knee was thrusted up again. “Good boy.”  
Sans whimpered. “A-ah, please don’t—”  
Fingers pinched his clit. He bucked, squealing sharply and nearly coming, “did anyone tell you that you could talk? No. Bad boy”  
   Sans went silent, heat blooming over his cheeks as the knee bounced him, a weak moan leaving him. It barely gave him enough stimulation, and he could already feel his frustrated magic.  
He panted sharply as he the other’s knee was shoved against his lips, his own femurs jerking at the bone just barely slipping inside with each thrust. He gasped loudly when it raised particularly high and his body doubled over as he shuddered.  
   Finally, the knee stopped. He sighed shakily. “Do you want my cock, pretty boy?” Sans bowed his head to hide his embarrassment. “I do,” he said gently, adding a light “sir.” The groan from Papyrus was enough to tell him that was he right thing to say. He jumped when he was just about slid onto the other’s member, spine arching delicately.   
   “You’re so extra,” Papyrus laughed breathily.  
   “Shut up and fuck me, already.”


	3. Day 04 - Bukakke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so- Here's a couple things you guys need to know:  
> First off, obviously, I am so far back with this whole kinktober thing.. I have started or finished a total of 8 days out of 26. I will try my best to complete them, but it won't be done by the end of October (Whoops. I really wanted to do it for the kinks, though- I just missed the deadline, yeah?)  
> Second, just as obviously, I am not going to post perfectly in order. I've been finished day four, and another (eighteen, maybe?) and I'm going to post the days I finish as I go. Hope that doesn't bother any of you, because it is very unlikely to change.  
> Hey, I'm sorry, but I'm real busy right now, and setting this deadline to write this stuff is kinda stressing me out, and even though I know I won't meet it, I still feel bad, so: cumming all over Dusty!

_    This isn’t bad _ , he can’t help but think, hands wrapped around two erections, as he licks the tip of another. It’s unusual for him— why doesn’t he just kill them? He could— it would be so easy.

   But no— he rubs his thumb against the head of a hot member, orange flames licking up Sans’ fingers before he sucks at the sweet precum— he  _ wanted _ to experience something. Something different. He had taken to other universes, and this one was interesting— useless, good for grinding of two different kinds. 

   And he  _ is _ going to— he’s going to grind out every bit of EXP he can get, which is what he’s really here for, but these monsters are entertaining as well. They were all whores, and the old diner-slash-bar is instead a strip club. They were all  _ disgusting _ , but he didn’t even get a chance to see this world’s self before he was somehow swept up in— whatever this was.

   He opens his mouth wide, rolls his tongue out, and captures another’s magic in his mouth— a vibrant, royal purple, and it tastes— indescribable, really. It’s a strong, tangy taste laced with salt, but it had some sort of rank ingredient that made his naval ridge tense. 

   Monsters here were disgusting. God, was this Papyrus the same? He exhaled shakily at the thought and pulled back, tongue lolling out further to catch the liquid dripping from the cock, only to grunt as some hit it face— the monster groaned, and it took all of Sans’ willpower not to snap his jaws down on the tip that was dragged against his cheek.

   There was some sort of satisfaction there— his breath hitched in a completely un-Sans way, and a whimper rose to the back of his throat, but he refused to make noise. For the moment, that is.

   He turned his head, forming his magic at the start of his throat, before taking all of the heat-based monster’s member in, letting the head bump against the start of the summoned cushion. He basked in the groan it caused before opening his jaws wider, pushing it deeper, swallowing multiple times—

   A sharp noise left him as it released deep into his throat, the wall of magic-based organ spasming slightly. His mouth was sensitive, and it didn’t help with his throat being coated in the hot substance. He pulled back, trying to control the noises that were escaping him, frustrated whimpers that definitely spurred on the rest of the group— his free hand wrapped around another cock, aqua green and littered with linear bumps. He already missed the heat in his throat.

   He was reminded that there was no need to control himself— everybody here would be dead within the next twenty-four hours. There was no need for embarrassment.

   Two monsters released on his cheekbones at the same time and a long, needy noise left him, joined by the grunts and groans of other monsters. One of his eyes shut as that seemed to trigger the rest of them— the other socket was assaulted with hot release and he gasped sharply, femurs suddenly pressing together— “a- _ ah _ —”

   A member was shoved into the socket and he practically spasmed, grip tightening to something that was just about painful— he heard a little yip of pain. His hips jerked forwards and he was suddenly very grateful for his position on his knees.

   God, he— no, he really  _ didn’t _ need to control himself, he didn’t, but there was still the underlying need to stop, to put these other monsters before him and not be so— no  _ no NO _ he needed to—

_    Sans _ , a voice chided him, one only he could truly hear,  _ let yourself go _ . And Papyrus must have heard the silent plea to keep talking, and he felt the phantom sensation of a skull nuzzling against his as he let himself be used. It kept talking—  _ You’re going to come, Sans. It’s okay, you’re allowed— Hmm, _ and the voice wavered as you break down into pleased noises,  _ You’re doing so good. I wish I could touch you. You’re doing so well. _

   There was a bulge against the front of his shorts, and he whined as he worked his hands faster, another monster’s ejaculation dripping down the back of his head—  _ You’re really going to come, aren’t you? You’re so dirty, aren’t you? And you’re going to come when your skull is filled with cum _ — 

The voice cracked, and he bucked his body forward before he felt hot, sticky fluids hit the inside of his skull and whined sharply as they trailed down, burning his throat and irritating his magic further.

_    Please come, please, brother _ — God, why did it sound so desperate? His femurs trembled as the inside of his shorts were soiled, liquid magic running all down his head, fiery red and soothing aqua and bright violet— some white joined the colors, and he didn’t even— how many monsters were even there? 

_    You make quite a show _ . How is the voice so breathless?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I managed to make this fontcest  
> (Yes, Papy is a hallucination. Fun, huh? Poor Sans.)


	4. Day 06 - Size Difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you plain fontcest, honeyketchup, dusty- now you get Horrortale! Hurray!  
> (Plus, a Papyrus whose size is WAY exaggerated ;0)  
> Warnings: Masochism, probably blood (magic, marrow-)

   The difference between your height and your partner’s was humiliating, to say the least. Papyrus’ palms were twice the length of your hands, for God’s sake, and that didn’t even count for his long digits, tips curving into sharp, ragged claws, and you  _ loved _ it. Fuck, you loved it, but it dampened your reputation, a small, almost unintimidating monster paired with- well,  _ Papyrus _ . Papyrus, who towered over just about everyone in Snowdin, almost as frightening as Undyne herself. Papyrus, whose teeth set everyone on edge by first glance.

   And then there was you- small, shorter than any adult you knew, shorter than some  _ children _ . The top of your head could barely brush against Papyrus’ bottommost rib. It was almost sad, and it ruined everything else appealing about you. The crack that was more of a jagged  _ hole _ in your skull didn’t matter- your rough teeth, the magic that dripped from them, it didn’t  _ matter _ .

   Usually it bothers you, and people call you a grump because of it- people who end up dead later, of course. Papyrus wouldn’t let that go by without consequence. Again,  _ most _ times the contrast bothers you- except for the times when you’re pressed tightly to the wall, with enough force to make your bones creak, when those tharp teeth glide against yours and let you taste the sharp tang of an unknown monster’s magic. So, at this moment- you weren’t complaining.

   Not when, as you’re pulled into his lap, he towers over you, and you can barely even fit there- your femurs are spread far apart. The hungry look in his sockets makes you shudder, and quickly enough, those fangs are pressed to yours, if the rough edges could even be called that. A tongue slips out, hot, burning, and it presses against the frigid magic that is your own, rough, dominant, and you whimper. His magic was completely opposite of yours- it was an orange littered with reminisce of crimson, of blue and indigo, hot to the touch, its heat enough to burn. Yours was wintry, a deep indigo that pulsed with sharp frosted cyan and yellow, mixed with that same crimson that tainted his.

   And  _ God _ you could already feel the bulge under his torn shorts, and it didn’t even take a single thrust for your own magic to react as his tongue found the sweet spot in your mouth and you quaked in his lap as it was abused, a solid stream of whimpers and gasps escaping you. It was attacked until the scrape of tongue against it ached, until the bone there felt raw, and your hips shifted uncontrollably, jutting out in sharp bursts of need.

   When he pulled away, you were a panting, squirming mess, whining at him incomprehensibly. The chill to your bones- your whole body must have been flushed, just from a goddamn kiss. You swallowed harshly as you were lifted, those large hands holding you easily, and your shorts were a bit of a struggle to get off, then came the matter of Papyrus’ own, somehow torn yet again in the process- he didn’t mind. Your breath caught, and you weren’t given time to prepare.

   Fuck, okay, one of the best things about your contrast of sizes was his cock-  _ way _ too big for you, too large to fit, but he slams in anyway, and your femurs tense, spine arching sharply as your jaws parted widely. It was always at least a little painful, no matter how many times you’ve gone through this, but the pain only leaves you whimpering for more, and he jerks down your hips, a sharp pinch making you cry out. “T-too-”

   He pauses, ever-concerned. “Too much?”  
“It always is,” you whine, “keep going.”

   He doesn’t hesitate. He never does once you’ve confirmed you were okay— your femurs jerk as his length is forced the rest of the way, or about as far as it could go, and you cling to his rugged cervical vertebrae, exhaling little whimpers. 

   “God, there’s so much,” you hiss, which only seems to spur him on. You’re desperately clinging to him as his hips start rutting up, thrusting into you, and you’re barely aware of the high keening noises that leave you, only the insurmountable pleasure, coiling sharply in the pit your rib cage, hot,  _ burning _ trails shooting up your spine, warming your core.

   Teeth suddenly delve into your neck, heating your body in pain as you hiss through your canines, suddenly so,  _ so _ sensitive. They grind down, and stars burst into your vision as you wail, and you’re not exactly sure— you’re not exactly sure if you orgasm, because that feels like it would have been too soon, but the next time you blink the fangs are gone in place of a warm tongue, lapping up the marrow, and your breath is shallow as neutrally warm tingles radiate from you chest, your pelvis. You must have.

   He still hasn't, though— he’s just giving you a break, like always. It’s far from being over.

**Author's Note:**

> This is terrible and rushed


End file.
